by Sue Watson
It was so quiet. I couldn’t see him, or hear his footsteps. Where the fuck was he? I surveyed the car park and, moving closer to where I’d last seen him, hid behind a Mazda to gaze through the lines of cars. It was pretty dark, with only a few lights here and there, and I tried to make out what was keeping him when my eyes finally focused on a figure in the distance. Yes! It was him, but why wasn’t he walking to his car, which I’d parked close to so he would find me? I moved closer, and after a few minutes, closer again. When I eventually saw him in the semi-darkness, I had to hold on to the nearest car to stop myself from collapsing in shock – which set off the car’s alarm… not part of my evil plan. Anyway, there he was, bold as brass, snogging the slut from accounts like they were starring in some sleazy porno. She was up against a car, with him all over her. So this was the affair Geraldine had found out about. I wasn’t even on her bloody radar. I was so last year. As the car alarm screamed, I watched from a safe distance, unable to drag my eyes away from what was happening. It was disgusting, devastating and distressing all at once, and I just wanted to get in my car and drive home. But of course I couldn’t because I’d slashed my own sodding tyre!
I was angry enough to do something terrible to his new car, like scratch it all the way down the side with the knife, but he was parked too close to a camera (I ran a key along his car a few days later when I’d confirmed the slut was my replacement and the reason for the breakdown of his marriage).
Meanwhile, the sodding car alarm was still screaming and the security guard was rushing towards me, like some out-of-shape action hero shouting ‘I’m here, Miss Young.’ So not part of my plan. To cut a long story short, everything turned to chaos and shit, and in the end I did the only thing I could do, and that was call Lucy. She was always great in an emergency, but, Sod’s Law, the one time I really needed her she’d gone to bed and turned her bloody phone off. My back-up option was to call stroppy old Matt, her monosyllabic husband, who didn’t really like me, but given my only other option was to stay the night with Felix the security guard in his hut until the garage opened, I decided to call Matt. I did this over the noise of Felix, who was now trying to stop the car alarm with one hand and waving his phone and threatening to call the police on my stalker with the other.
‘I’ve already called the police, Felix,’ I lied. ‘They’re coming to my home tomorrow to take a statement,’ I said, willing Matt to answer quickly and chopper me out of there. I didn’t want the police anywhere near my slashed tyre, for obvious reasons. Matt answered eventually and wasn’t exactly delighted to hear from me, but he agreed to come along and fix my tyre and turned up half an hour later in his car.
‘What happened?’ he asked, bending down and looking at the tyre. Obviously I wasn’t going to tell him what really happened, so said it looked like ‘my stalker’ had been around again. He rolled his eyes and just continued to scrutinize the tyre with the torch on his phone. I don’t think he believed I had a stalker.
‘Are you going to call the police?’ he asked, looking up from the tyre.
I lied again that I already had and he accepted that. They’d been a few weeks before, when Lucy called them from JoJo’s, but I told them she was hysterical and I didn’t have a stalker, just an ‘enthusiastic fan’ who texted me a lot. That soon got rid of them. I didn’t have the time or the patience to go through it all with them; I’d had lots of weird fans over the years.
I watched Matt change the tyre and marvelled at how easily he did it – this wasn’t the scenario I’d had in mind, but it was a nice feeling to think someone cared enough to come out and save me. It was a warm night, and working on the tyre made him sweat. I could see his forehead was damp, so he took off his shirt to reveal a T-shirt underneath. I admired him in the glow of his phone torch, strong, muscular arms carefully taking the tyre off and throwing it around like it weighed nothing. Lucy had mentioned he was going to the gym now; and it was certainly paying off.
I’d never seen Matt in this way before, but he looked good. He was quite handsome, in a homely way, with his fair hair and strong, sturdy body. He wasn’t my usual type, but I could see what Lucy saw in him.
When he’d finished, I thanked him profusely, and, facing me, he put both his hands gently around the tops of my arms, which felt intimate, but at the same time could be construed as just caring – like something a parent might do.
‘The tyre’s fine now…’ he said, looking me in the eye, ‘but are you okay?’ This was said with such tenderness I had to resist the instinct to burst into tears and bury my head in his neck. I was overwhelmed. I’d had the most awful time, and was devastated at what had happened with Ben. I’d felt so alone, then out of nowhere he came and rescued me, and it felt like someone did care about me after all.
‘I’m a little scared… I mean, he’s done this. What next?’ I heard myself say, looking back into his eyes, seeing something like kindness.
‘Yeah, he won’t do anything if I’m around. Now, you get in the car, start it and let’s check everything’s okay before you drive off, and I’ll follow you back,’ he said.
Okay, he was my best friend’s husband, and it seemed like we had a connection, but at that point I was still in control. It didn’t have to become anything more than another friendship. He was the male version of Lucy – and that’s how I had to view him. And yet there was something tugging at my insides. I told myself it was probably a direct response to the stress, and the fact my heart had just been slashed along with my tyre. I couldn’t help but compare Matt to Ben. Here was a man who didn’t let women down – I’d never known that before.
Despite Matt suggesting I get in my car and drive off, I didn’t, and we continued to stand facing each other in the darkness. The silence was thick and heavy and everything seemed to be standing still, until suddenly I reached up and kissed him, softly.
He seemed a little surprised, but allowed my kisses, his lips not moving. He was quite hesitant and unsure, but within seconds, his arms were around me, his kisses urgent. It all seemed inevitable. I tried not to think of Lucy as my hands glided up those strong, muscular arms, and the more Matt kissed me, the further Lucy and Ben receded. The agony began to pale; his kisses were slowly erasing the pain, taking away the sting that sat in my heart. I wanted to open myself up to him, consume him until I couldn’t feel any more, his heart and my heart as one, our bodies tangled so tightly together nothing and no one could get in between us and hurt me again.
It’s hard to explain, and I hated myself, but at the same time, with the swirling guilt and fear and hurt, a bud was growing, a thrilling spark of something new, something delicious – something forbidden.
I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, but I felt a little earthquake inside as I pulled away, desperately conflicted, fighting with myself and my desires, my needs. I searched for Matt’s eyes in the darkness and we both gasped.
Had that just happened, or had I imagined it? The kiss had come from nowhere. Never in a million years had I ever envisaged this scenario. Me and Matt Metcalf? Lucy’s husband? Kissing?
I looked up and checked the stars were still in the sky because I felt such a meteoric shift. For almost half my life I’d thought my future lay with Ben. I thought he was love, and could provide everything I wanted, but here was someone who could maybe give me everything I needed. But that I couldn’t have.
In silence, I climbed into my car, leaving Matt standing there, just knowing he had the same feelings as I did, that there was more to this, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Here was another married man, another lover who belonged to another woman, only this time it wasn’t someone I didn’t know, had never met. I couldn’t close my eyes and pretend she didn’t exist – because she was my best friend. I couldn’t allow this to ever become a reality, and I told myself it must never be given oxygen, never be allowed to breathe. But even then I felt like I was being swept out to sea on something I couldn’t keep afloat – sooner or later I would lose control and it would pull m
e in.
Driving through the streets, I felt numb. I didn’t know what was going to happen, just that it would. Lucy’s husband was my fork in the road, and, right or wrong, whatever journey we were going on, from that night on I knew we’d be travelling together.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Amber
Matt followed me home in his car, and when I invited him in, he didn’t hesitate, and we didn’t even reach the sitting room before he gently pushed me against the wall in the hallway, and we kissed. I was lost, and, taking his hand, I guided him upstairs to my bed, where we made love, and I lay in his arms, wondering what I’d just done, what we’d just done. It was driven by lust and despair on my part, and if things had been different we’d have seen each other again, but we told each other we couldn’t do it to Lucy. It wasn’t easy. I tried to avoid him, but he was there in his and Lucy’s kitchen cooking dinner, his strong, muscular arms stirring stews and pasta sauces. His secret smile just for me. I’d sit with her drinking Prosecco, and watch him when she wasn’t looking. It was agony knowing he was so near and yet so far. I knew that in another time, another place, in another life, we’d have been lovers. Then I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t know who the father was, but it could easily be Matt and after a while I moved in with them. I think I was probably a bit snappy with Lucy around this time, because in truth I was jealous. She got to sleep with Matt every night and I didn’t. I remember one evening being particularly mean to her and feeling terrible because she asked me to go upstairs and when I got there, she’d turned one of their spare rooms into a lovely ‘Amber room’, as she called it. I cried, not just because I was so touched, but because I felt so guilty about the fact I’d slept with her husband. ‘I’m a horrible friend,’ I’d said, and she was kind and understanding and lovely. She assumed my tears were because I was hormonal, but they were tears of guilt made worse by her kindness.
In those first few months I felt more relaxed at theirs. Being with them made me feel safe and protected – the three of us were like a little family. I tried not to dwell on the fact that Matt and I had slept together and that there was an outside chance he might even be the father; I just wanted to be calm for my unborn baby.
When I was pregnant, I stayed around the house, all day. Lucy would come home about 4 p.m. and I’d look forward to spending time with her. She’d bustle in, chatting away, then she’d make mugs of tea and crumpets and we’d sip the hot tea and enjoy those buttery crumpets as we talked. She’d bring me little titbits from her day in the outside world – a funny thing one of the kids had said, a snippet of gossip, a rumoured affair between teachers. Like flowers, she’d lay the stories she’d collected before me on the kitchen table; they were her gifts to me, and I appreciated each one. Laughter, surprise, salaciousness, we shared it all. I’ll never forget those moments. They were like our sleepovers and cinema trips – true female friendship. I remember Lucy telling me she used to envy a girl at school who once remarked in passing that her mother would be waiting with tea and crumpets when she got home from school. ‘I always wanted that,’ she sighed, biting into her crumpet.
I’d wanted that all my life too – and I think that’s why we became friends. On the surface we’re quite different, but underneath we’re the same, both seeking safety and love, both recovering from our pasts. And sadly, now, both in love with the same man, and from the minute I fell for Matt, I knew our friendship couldn’t survive.
Despite those initial early days, I began to find Lucy’s mother-hen fussing more irritating than endearing. It seemed the more I pulled away and fought for a little autonomy, a patch of independence, the more she pulled the other way. It was like an emotional tug of war. We were both bound together by the same rope – but pulling in different directions.
At times, I wondered if she had an inkling about Matt and me; she began watching me closely, asking where I was going and who with. At first she made me feel like she was there for me and then before long I came to rely on her until I was in a situation where she’d provided me with a home and childcare and I felt this terrible sense of obligation to her. I was also obligated to Matt, but that was more complex. I’d told him all about my history with Ben, which he seemed to be vaguely aware of because Lucy had filled him in, but it turns out he’s quite the manly jealous type where I’m concerned. I was surprised myself, but I liked that he didn’t want to talk about Ben, didn’t want to hear about my relationship with him because he was jealous. He said he’d like to punch Ben for the way he treated me for so long, and I found it touching because no one’s ever cared enough to want to fight for me before. I subtly asked Lucy if Matt was a jealous husband. ‘God no.’ She laughed. ‘I try and make him jealous sometimes by flirting with men in front of him, but he’s never bothered.’
‘He probably enjoyed it – fantasised about you being with someone else,’ I said, enjoying the fact that Matt couldn’t bear the thought of me with anyone else.
‘Amber, you are outrageous,’ she said.
I’m a terrible person. I hate myself sometimes, and know it would have been kinder to just walk away from both Matt and Lucy and let them be. But I couldn’t, because to leave them would have broken both their hearts and mine. Lucy loves Mia and Matt loves me, and I need them both. I love Matt, but the truth is, he hasn’t eclipsed Ben in my heart. I will always have feelings for Ben. He’s been in my life for so long and I never really got closure when we parted. This doesn’t diminish my feelings for Matt and the more I think about it, the more I feel like I could be in love with two people at once.
Matt’s a less complicated man than Ben, and I assumed the relationship would be easier, more open too. But that’s the problem. Matt and I realised we couldn’t be apart; it was so hard under the same roof and we began sleeping together. It was so difficult, because this was the beginning of a love affair, and he naturally became more attentive to me, more openly affectionate, but we had to supress our feelings. Ostensibly this was so Lucy didn’t see what was going on, but over the weeks and months I became uncomfortable with his shows of affection. Ben was cool, he wasn’t demonstrative, and I’m not used to being loved the way Matt loves.
‘If Lucy finds out, then that would solve our problem,’ he said, when I asked him not to touch me as soon as she left the room. ‘Lucy will divorce me and we can be together.’ I find him attractive, I like sleeping with him and being loved but I’m not ready for a full-blown relationship and I realise now that part of Matt’s appeal for me was probably that he was forbidden fruit.
It was like he lost his head after we started the affair, constantly trying to kiss me, embracing me at difficult moments when I was busy, or holding Mia, or just needing space. He told me he loved me all the time, and I remember one evening, when Lucy was still here, he was saying ‘you’re my everything’ and Lucy walked in and heard him. I almost died, and managed to cover it up, saying she’d misheard, but I think Matt wanted to confess there and then.
Sometimes I could barely look at her, for the way she made me feel, through no fault of her own. When I was first pregnant, she gave me a beautiful little teddy for the baby and when she handed it to me I just cried. She thought I was crying because I loved the gift, but I was crying because I hated myself for what I was doing to her.
My mother always said I was bad. ‘Rotten like your father,’ she’d say. Perhaps I am.
More than once I’d told Matt it had to stop, and he agreed, but then we’d brush past each other on the stairs, or find each other’s eyes across the room, and before we knew it we were making love. Sometimes, though, we’d just cuddle, and he’d tell me how much he loved me, how he’d loved me from the first moment he laid eyes on me. It was heady stuff for a woman who once turned heads and was now dealing with a different reality of being a mother, and being replaced for someone younger by her ex. I still needed to hear that I was attractive, sexy, and loved – and Matt did all that. And even when I told him the baby might not be his, he said it didn’t matt
er to him.
‘I hope I am the father,’ he said, ‘but what’s yours is mine, and I’ll love that baby like my own.’
I relished the rare evenings Lucy worked late or went out with her friend, dear old tight-lipped Kirsty who loves to judge everyone. And when Lucy stayed home we’d tell her there was a problem with the alarm at my house and we’d go back there and be together for a few delicious minutes. The sex was always rushed, secret, forbidden – and so exciting, especially when we thought she might come and find us.
Later I’d hate myself when we were all sitting round the table, Matt serving dinner from one of their Le Creuset wedding gifts meant to last a lifetime. I’d smile and nod, and sometimes cry and blame my hormones and Lucy would hug me and I would hug her back, knowing that, for me, a friend like Lucy was a once in a lifetime friend. And I was ruining her life.
Other times I’d hear them talking when I wasn’t in the room. Their voices were warm, easy – flirty even. It surprised me the way Matt could go from all-consuming passion with me, his lover, to caring husband with Lucy, but I suppose he had to play the part or she might suspect. But just hearing their laughter in the house made me feel jealous, alone, like a child again, hearing the voices of my mother and another man… one of her many suitors who looked at her like she was a piece of meat. And Mum knew what she was doing; she knew the effect she had on men and used it to survive.